


Might Just Save Your Life

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Protect and Survive [10]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Everyhing is better with The Princess Bride, Explosions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Cadman thought she came back to Atlantis for Carson Beckett... but things aren't really happening as planned, thanks to our favorite Major, Evan Lorne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Astronauts, And Other Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/97738) by [chasingkerouac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingkerouac/pseuds/chasingkerouac). 



> So. First _Protect and Survive_ multichapter. This is, BTW, also my first SGA multichapter ever (as I just realized) so, it's... uh... special?

**  
  
Protect and Survive I: Might just save your life   
  
**   
_  
“Don’t need money, don’t take fame  
Don’t need no credit card to ride this train  
It’s strong and it’s sudden and it’s cruel sometimes  
But it might just save your life”   
_   
__

_  
Huey Lewis & The News, “The Power of Love”   
_   
**  
  
Prologue   
  
**   


It’s late at night when she finally gets the chance to go to the mess hall, grab a snack, sit down and _breathe_. That mission was one of the gooey, gory ones, with the occasional monster human… bug… whatever thrown in, some explosions... raiding one of Michael’s compounds, you name it. It took her at least two hours to clean all her equipment, let alone clean _herself_. All she wants to do now is eat something and then drag herself to bed.   
  


And at first glance the mess hall seems to be what she really, really wanted it to be: Empty. But then she rounds the corner with a sandwich in her hand, and there he is. Evan Lorne, sitting at a table by the railing, his right elbow propped up at the table top and his feet on a chair in front of him, a bottle of beer in his hand. Her first impulse is to turn around on the spot because she’s _really_ tired but then he already turned around and spotted her. “Hey, Cadman, join me for a bottle?” Ah hell… maybe a late night beer wouldn’t so bad.   
  


She sighs and then shrugs, making a show of sacrificing her precious down time for him. Seeing as he has only one bottle with him, she goes to look through the fridge and eventually finds one for herself. She just hopes she’s not raiding someone’s private stash, as it’s some foreign beer and she doesn’t even know what exactly is written on the label.   
  


Finally, she comes sauntering over to the table, puts down the sandwich and the beer and sits down opposite from him, mimicking his position. For a while, they sit together in companionable silence, both looking out into the night at the lights of the city and the sky above with all these star constellations that still aren’t feeling quite alright. Then, when she’s done with her sandwich and allows herself a moment to lay back her head and close her eyes, his voice suddenly drifts over to her, “Had a tough mission?”   
  


She keeps her eyes closed, wishing _someone_ would come round and help her get those pesky knots out of her neck and her shoulders. “Uh-huh, you could say that. Icky, too. But nothing that would seriously rattle a Marine.”    
  


She smiles and in his answer she can hear that smile mirrored. “I would expect nothing less from you. So, got all the bad guys?” She nods, opening her eyes again and taking a swig from her bottle.   
  


“Sure. Lots of shooting, though. Carson gave me a wigging so bad I could only make out half the words because his accent’s been slipping like hell when he patched me up after the mission.” There’s a suture right above her left eye and a bandage around her right arm where shrapnel had grazed it. It had been nothing, really, but Carson had insisted on making a big fuss over it anyway. For a moment she’d even caught herself at being astonished that he was really _Carson_ in that regard

  


“Hope he didn’t have to patch up too much.” She’s not quite sure if he says that only because he hopes Carson didn’t have too much to worry about her or because _he_ is worried. Since she arrived on Atlantis a few weeks ago, there’d been these strange slips of tongue from Evan that she doesn’t know how to interpret… doesn’t even know if she should interpret them _at all_. And like all the other times before, she wisely chooses not to pick too much on this one sentence.   
  
  


“Nah, nothing more than a few scratches. I’m fine. And I got to play with the _big_ things.” She looks at him with a grin that borders on maniacal and the distinctive glint in her eyes she always has when thinking of C4 and all the other pretty toys the armory has for her. Yeah, there’s been lots of fire in the hole today.   
  


He only takes a swig from his own bottle and mockingly rolls his eyes “Girls and their explosions.”   
  


“Nuh-uh.” She wiggles her index finger at him, perfectly imitating her English teacher when telling a student what an idiot he is, “ _Marines_ and their explosions, please. We female Marines do not like to be belittled with comments like these. In fact, we feel very offended by it.”    
  


He hides a grin behind another sip from his beer and gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. _Marines_ and their explosions. Now… you got some bug butts blasted into oblivion, at least?”    
  


She grins a very proud grin. “Yessir. Whole lot of them. What about you? Got an interesting mission?”    
  


He shrugs and looks at the city again. “Not really. Had to baby-sit some zoologists on… can’t even remember the planet’s denomination. Anyway, while the scientists were taking their samples and pictures and all that stuff, Henderson, Treviso and three of the new guys from Spain and I’ve just been sitting around… and then suddenly one of the scientists… one of the new girls, can’t remember her name… anyway… she comes running shrieking out of this forest – where I told her not to go, by the way – saying she’s seen some big predator.” She feels absolutely enwrapped in his story and finds herself thinking that he’s got quite the storyteller’s voice. Granted, not as nice as Carson’s because he’s lacking that special Scottish burr but it’s warm and smooth, making her almost forget that he uses it far more often to shout orders in combat than telling stories in a deserted mess hall.    
  


“So you went to find out.” He nods, pointing his finger at her.   
  


“Damn right I did. Took Henderson with me and left Treviso and the Spaniards to take care of the scientists. They weren’t happy because, you know, they were _zoologists_ … honestly, one of them was shouting after us that we should be careful with that thing because they wanted to get a sample or something. Careful with a predator, my ass.” He snorts a little and makes her laugh as well. Sure, both of them have academic degrees – though she still hasn’t found out what’s his – but they aren’t scientists. At least not in the ‘Gtting totally lost in your work, so much that you forget to eat, sleep and carry your sidearm always with you.’ way.    
  


“Was there really a predator?” He leans back in his chair and assumes the air of a wizened teacher.   
  


“Not so fast, young _padawan_.” She rolls her eyes. Evan Lorne, a Star Wars nerd? Not bloody likely, she’d have said but obviously there are still a lot of things she doesn’t know about him. “Henderson and I went into the underbrush and found nothing. Really, only annoying insects and the occasional lizard or small rodent, nothing out of the usual. Then, suddenly, everything goes quiet. And I mean really quiet. And _then_ …” she realizes she’s actually holding her breath, “WHAM, this thing _jumps_ out of the bush _right_ in front of me.” He really managed to make her jump and nearly fall off her chair with this one and she has to laugh pretty hard at her own reaction. She notices that he seems quite pleased with his efforts.   
  


When she’s calmed herself down enough, she clears her throat and asks, “What happened then? I mean, you _are_ sitting here unscathed.”   
  


He leans back in his chair again and shrugs. “Well, you know me… I shoot it, I go home, I get drunk.” Another swig out of the bottle, this time followed by a distinctive smug grin.    
  


As he definitely needs some comeback for that thing he just pulled, she snorts very unladylike, takes the empty sandwich package and throws it at him, followed by a “Liar.” He dodges it just barely, laughing and touching his heart in a mocking gesture.   
  


“Aw, Cadman, you wound me. Why would you say that?” She takes a good swig from her own bottle, then points at him, with the bottle still in hand.   
  


“Because you don’t get drunk,” she says matter-of-factly. He merely raises an eyebrow.   
  


“I don’t?” Another swig from her bottle.   
  


“Nope. ‘Cause you’re Major Evan Lorne, USAF. You’re a model soldier. A good guy. Dutiful, exact, thorough. You. Don’t. Get. Drunk.” He makes a face.   
  


“Right. And you’re Lieutenant Laura Cadman, USMC. You’re one hell of an explosives expert, sassy and spunky. You don’t get upset.” She puts down the bottle and looks away. All of a sudden, there’s a darker tint to the mood. As she sees the realization at what he just said dawning on his face, she hastens to beat him and his apology.    
  


“Well… you’ve got a point there.”    
  


“Laura, I…” She holds up her hand to forestall whatever he’s going to say. For some reason, she doesn’t want to be reminded of the time after Carson’s death right now.    
  


“No, Evan, it’s okay. It’s… okay. So…” She turns around to face him and leans forward on the table, a hint of her usual sparkle in her eyes. “Is there any chance I might get to see you being drunk in the near future?”   
  


He takes his feet off the chair and leans forward on the table as well. She’s delighted to see something in his eyes that suggests there’s more to Evan Lorne than just the goody-two-shoes kick-ass soldier. “I don’t know anything about the near future _but_ I’m planning on getting seriously pissed at my bachelor bash.”   
  


It comes as a total surprise but she feels a kind of stab at the mentioning of his wedding and she needs some strength to cover up her shock with a considerable amount of sarcasm. “What, are you planning on getting married, Evan?” He nearly spits out the beer he just drank.    
  


After some coughing and sputtering he’s finally able to speak again. For some reason now _she_ is pretty pleased with the result of her efforts. “Good God, _no_! I mean, yes, one day I do want to get married. I just meant it in general, not to someone in particular. Well, not yet, anyway.” Again he manages to take her by surprise as he gives her a look that’s so strange that it actually makes her look away. But she doesn’t comment on it. Some things, as she keeps telling herself, are better left alone. Seems like this became a constant mantra of hers in the last few weeks.   
  


Pretending not to be relieved at his strict denial, she shrugs and says, “Good to know you’re not into the whole eternal bachelor thing. I think knowing that would make quite a few ladies in several departments deliriously happy.”    
  


“Several… departments, huh? You’re… scaring me, you know.” She risks a look at him, to see if he meant that or if there is even the slightest hint of sarcasm or irony. Seems, though, that he obviously has _no_ idea how many women on Atlantis – for some reason it’s mainly the diplomats and nurses – have developed some heavy crushes on him.    
  


“Aw, come on, don’t tell me you don’t see all the girls falling over their feet whenever you pass by. You’re starting to become serious competition for Colonel Sheppard.” He makes a face that tells her that he doesn’t believe a thing, but it’s true: eternal bed-head ladies’ man Sheppard is really starting to lose some footing with the female population of Atlantis; and not only to Ronon Dex but also to his 2IC. For some reason she finds it even a little cute how honest and unobtrusive Evan Lorne has trouble accepting – let alone believing – that he might have some female adorers among the expedition members.    
  


“Yeah, well, whatever… anyway… errr… how are things between you and the Doc?” Ah, and now he’s trying to divert her attention by asking a direct question she can’t refuse. But did it really have to be _that_ question?   
  


“Things between Carson and me are… okay. I guess.” And in the same moment she realizes she said the wrong thing.    
  


“You guess?” A raised eyebrow. Yep, she knew it. The moment she’d added the wretched “I guess.” she’d known he’d pick up on that. Evan Lorne may be totally oblivious to all the female attention he is receiving but he isn’t insensitive.    
  


“Yeah, well… it’s kinda… slow-going. We’re… dancing around each other, I think. I mean, we’re talking and laughing and all that stuff, but… it’s just…” It’s just that Carson wouldn’t make a move and she doesn’t dare make one, either, for fear of being rejected. But she’d rather rot in hell than tell anyone – even Evan – that she was scared of _anything_.   
  


He moves his hand and for a moment it looks as if he’s reaching out to put it on her hand but then seems to have thought better of it. Why does she suddenly have the feeling that he’s trying to cover up something? “Give it time, Laura. He’ll come around.”    
  


Yeah, well, the thing is: _she_ needs to come around as well. But for some reason, her usual forward nature deserts her in this special case. It’s almost as if some invisible barrier that’s got nothing to do with the fact of Carson being a clone is holding her back from making the one final move. Another thing she isn’t ready to tell Evan, just yet. Plus she’s _really_ tired now.    
  


So she settles with, “Wish I had your confidence.” To soften the words and cover up her own insecurity, she gives him a wink and finally gets up again. “Anyway, gotta go now. Have to get up real early tomorrow ‘cause Carson’s taking me fishing.” And yes, there’s the uncomfortable silence again. Just for the fraction of a second but it’s there because both of them still feel like it somehow made both of them responsible for his death that neither of them went fishing with him that day. Time and again, they’ve both tried to convince each other that it’s no one’s fault but incidents and fate, but they still haven’t managed to.   
  


Then he gets up as well and replies, “Well, good luck with that.” After a moment he adds, “With _all_ kinds of fishing.” She just ignores the slight tightening of his voice and concentrates on the wink and the encouraging smile instead.    
  


“Thanks. See you tomorrow evening, huh?” They’ve put away the waste now and are standing in the corridor outside the mess hall now. She knows his quarters are in the opposite direction to hers and for a short moment she’s glad of that. She doesn’t know if she had been up to the weirdness of practically being walked home by him just now.    
  


“Yeah. And I expect you to tell me _all_ the details.” She grins at that.   
  


“Maybe, if I’m in a good mood. Don’t get your hopes up, though. But if anything important happens… you’ll be the first to know.” He just nods.   
  


“I’d appreciate that.” Then he smiles again. Not a grin, but one of those rare friendly, somewhat shy smiles that make women all over Atlantis swoon. “‘Night, Laura.”    
  


She can’t help smiling back as she replies, “’Night, Evan.” 


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, um. I had this in the buffer since forever. Will just post all chapter at once. Hope I'm not spamming too many inboxes. If I am, please tell me so?

** One **

 “Lieutenant Cadman.” She groans. This isn’t happening. It’s just not happening. “Lieutenant Cadman, do you copy?” With her face on her pillow, she fumbles around on her nightstand until she’s found her headset. When she’s finally found it, she needs all her energy to get up from the pillow and keep herself from bellowing into the microphone.

 “Go ahead.” And please tell me you made a mistake and wanted to speak to some other Marine because in about an hour, Carson Beckett will knock at my door to drag me to the mainland for something that could be closely resembling an actual date, she thinks. But of course the wish doesn’t get granted.

 “There’s been a distress call from P8U-684. Major Lorne expects you at the armory in 10 minutes. He will fill you in on the details.” What the…? Distress call? Fill her in on the details? She swears, if this is some prank call hatched by Evan and Chuck or one of the other Gate Control Room guys, someone will get hurt. Seriously. There might even be casualties.

 But alas, she’s still a Marine. “As ordered. Cadman out.” With that she forces herself to get up and put on the only clean set of BDUs that’s left. She hopes that whatever this distress call is about, it doesn’t involve _any_ goo, gore or other sticky and disgusting substances. She’s had far too much of those lately. All the while she’s cursing under her breath. It was supposed to be her day of; her first whole day with Carson, the day where finally one of them would make a definite move. But _no_ , some villagers had to get in trouble of some sort and _someone_ up the chain of command had to decide to bring _her_ into the frame, for reasons she couldn’t fathom if her life depended on it. If Evan had _any_ hand in that…

 When she is finally done, she considers calling Carson but then decides against it. He’d just finished his shift after he’d patched her up after the bug busting mission and he deserves every minute of sleep he can get. Besides his quarters are on her way to the armory anyway. So she just scribbles down a few lines to tell him that she’s really sorry that she couldn’t go with him today because of being ordered on some impromptu mission and that she’ll make it up first chance she gets.

 With a mixture between a grunt and a sigh, she finally leaves her quarters to jog down to the armory, with only a stop to stick the note on Carson’s door. After a few more minutes she reaches the armory where obviously everyone’s been waiting only for her. She quashes the need to roll her eyes at the Marine Sergeants and Evan all looking expectantly at her while checking their side arms.

 “Reporting as ordered, sir.” She’s really making an effort to sound all business but some of the anger and disappointment have made it over into her voice. Hopefully, Meyers and Jones didn’t listen too closely.

 Evan just nods and jerks his head at another set of weapons, some packets of C4 and a standard batch of grenades. At least he thought of bringing some of the fun things, she thinks a little sourly. Quick and thorough as always she checks the rifle, the Beretta and the other stuff and gets packed. After a short nod from her, their group sets off toward the Gate Control Room.

 She would have been perfectly okay with not talking because she’s anything but a morning person but if Major Lorne is supposed to tell her the missions specs, he sure as hell should do that. But as he makes no move to do so, she forces herself to ask him, “So… the Control Room technician said you’d fill me in on the details?”

 He nods, already in full combat mode. “Yes. We just received a distress call from a village on P8U-684.” Yeah, well, as if she doesn’t know _that_ already. “Nothing specific, because contact broke before we could get any more information. We suspect either a Wraith culling or a raid by Michael’s troops. This will be a scouting mission, though. Quick insertion, scouting the perimeters, check out the village, quick get-away, return with the intel.” She nods. But there’s still something she doesn’t get.

 “Permission to ask a question, _sir_?” She knows they’re still Lieutenant and Major, when they’re on duty but she hopes he gets the sharp notion in the little word and understands that she’s _not_ happy with the whole thing.

 He keeps his stoic combat face, though, and nods. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.” Either he really didn’t hear the slip of tongue or decided to ignore it. She hopes it’s the first option since she’s bound for a busting otherwise when they’re done with the mission, she’s sure of that. They might be friends but he’s officer enough that he doesn’t tolerate insubordination from _anyone_ on a mission. And she’s officer enough to understand that.

 Still… some little demon is riding her today, and now she can’t bring herself to stop herself from asking, “With all due respect… but why did it have to be _me_? Doesn’t sound like a mission for a demolitions expert.” Thankfully enough she could keep her grumpiness out of this. Well… mostly.

 Nevertheless, he isn’t amused. But at least he has the decency to drop his voice. “Laura… Lieutenant Cadman, I don’t make a habit of explaining myself to junior officers, but I’ll make an exception for you,” okay, if she’s going to get a thorough tongue-lashing for stressing one little word the wrong way, _he_ will get one for this stupid needless condescending remark he only made for the sake of Meyers and Jones _maybe_ overhearing them, “You’ve been cross-training with the recon specialists. And you obviously were the only Marine available.” Just when she’s about to get herself worked up about this answer, he lets the mask of team leader slip, if only for a few moments, to say, “Laura, don’t take this out on me. It was Woolsey’s and Sheppard’s decision to put you on this team. It was an _order_.”

 She knows she should let this lie. She knows she should honor the fact that he likes her enough to allow himself to speak not as her CO but her friend on duty. But for the life of her, she can’t keep quiet now. “You _knew_ I already had the day planned. You could have said _something_!”

 To her surprise he doesn’t dress her down on the spot for being a petulant child but just sighs a little defeated and says quietly enough that Meyers and Jones have no chance whatsoever of hearing them, “I know and I’m sorry for that. Listen, Laura, I promise I’ll play taxi driver next time you and the Doc are going to the mainland. Wherever you want to go, whenever you want to go… doesn’t matter. I’m your man. Promise.” Something… isn’t right here. Shouldn’t he be giving her a lecture about questioning orders? Or acting so spoiled? He isn’t going soft on her, right?

 Or maybe… it _was_ his idea to bring her along and now he’s feeling guilty and afraid to admit it to her face. But whatever it is, both of this is sounding somehow out of character for him. He wouldn’t request putting _her_ on the team on some personal whim, right? No… no, he isn’t like that. It was probably just what she thinks: Woolsey and Sheppard decided to call her and he feels sorry because he didn’t tell them that she was scheduled for a day off, because he _never_ questions orders that make perfect sense.

 She decides she doesn’t want to think about this anymore. And they’ve arrived at the Gate Control Room, anyway. No time left for any further discussion. Shortly before they get the “Go”, she sighs and looks at him, saying, “Okay. Fine. Now let’s get this over with,” and trying to communicate via voice and eyes that she’s accepted his apology and apologizes for behaving like she did.

 He just nods and she really hopes he got her message. She doesn’t want to go on a mission like that, with any hard feelings left. Maybe she’s a little hot-tempered but as fast as she gets riled up, she starts feeling guilty for being out of line. When this is over, she promises herself and Evan, that she will use the first quiet moment they get to say sorry for getting at his throat like that and tell him that he doesn’t ever have to feel guilty for not questioning Woolsey’s or Sheppard’s decisions about whom to put on his team.

 Then Chuck gives them his okay. Shortly before stepping through the ‘Gate, she can’t help feeling a strange dark notion. Resolutely gripping her rifle a little tighter, she scolds herself for this esoteric nonsense and takes a step forward.


	3. Two

** Two **

 As they step through the ‘Gate onto the dark planet, she needs a few seconds to shake off the dizzying feeling of ‘Gate travel. She’s been doing this for over three years now but she’s still not fully gotten used to it. In the back of her mind, she suspects she never will.

 “Alright, people, I’ll take point, then Cadman, Jones and Meyers takes six. We’ll have a look at the village first.” He’s back in full combat mode and in a corner of her mind she finds the leisure to admire his determination and self-assured calm. She wonders if he’s always been like that or if there have been times when even Evan Lorne was just a teeny tiny wee little bit hot-headed, insecure or confused. Another thing she definitely needs to ask him when they’re back on Atlantis. Well… after he hopefully accepts her apology for being a little bitchy, that is.

 They march through the dark forest from the ‘Gate to the village and something feels strange. All the while she feels edgy and distracted. It makes her angry at herself because it’s not her usual way. Missions are routine for her and she stopped having problems with  concentrating on the task at hand and getting a grip on her nerves quite some time ago. In fact, she stopped shortly after boot camp.

 Evan holds up his hand to stop them and turns around to face her. “Cadman?” he whispers.

 “Yes, sir?” she whispers back, wishing they wouldn’t stop in this wretched nearly pitch black forest.

 “Is it just me or is something seriously wrong here?” So he noticed the strange quiet as well. She finds herself wishing he didn’t because _Evan Lorne_ feeling spooked by it makes it somehow real and quite a serious threat. If it had been just her she could have attributed it to PMS or something but if her CO feels it as well… they have a problem.

 “No, I’m right with you. What about you, Jones? Meyers?” She turns around to her fellow Marines. Both of them give her an affirmative. Crap.

 “Okay… I want you all to be _very_ careful. We have no idea what happened and we have no idea if there are any friendlies left on the planet. We’ll go to the village, take a quick vid, check the contamination scanners and lifesigns detectors and get away as fast as we can.” With that they start moving again but closer to each other now.

 It’s why she can actually hear him whisper something that’s most probably only meant for himself, “Wish we’d gotten a jumper.”

 She can’t help but muttering back, “Speaking of which… why didn’t we?”

 He turns around and she’s not sure if she can see surprise in his eyes or if that’s just a trick of sparse moonlight that is now filtering through the leaves. “Woolsey thought it would be a waste on such a mission. Sheppard tried to convince him the jumpers were _perfect_ for this kind of mission but he wouldn’t hear anything of it. I swear, one day, I’m gonna… never mind,” he whispers back and now she’s sure she could hear a good deal of agitation and frustration in his voice.

 She can’t help smirking a bit to herself. Just another hint that behind his carefully maintained calm, well-behaved duty façade there’s another Evan Lorne. She’d seen some of it whenever he’s on a mission with McKay – Evan Lorne being snarky at genius McKay was surely a sight to see – or in his e-mails or whenever they met off-duty but even then she had the feeling he was not quite letting himself go. In the flash of an instant, she has build herself a new private mission: discover what Evan’s like when he’s not holding back. And she already has some ideas how to… but not now. They arrived at the village.

 It’s situated in a clearing and now the night isn’t as dark anymore. The light of a small moon is sneaking through the clouds above, dipping the scenery in an eerie and somehow unreal light. The village consists of a couple of stone houses, built around a market square. It’s the outpost of a larger town a couple of miles to the east and was meant as a kind of relay station to Atlantis, in case there was any trouble on the planet.

 And trouble there is indeed. The whole place is dark, not a light in any of the windows or on the market square. According to local time it’s around late evening, 2200 or something. There should still be life on the square. She turns to Evan. He seems to have the same thoughts and a quick look at the lifesigns detector confirms them. Nothing. Without another word he gestures for them to move to the nearest house. Careful they make their way over the open, the rifles level. When they arrive at the house, Evan signals Meyers to light into the nearest window.

 She takes a short look inside as well but there’s nothing really hinting at what could have happened, except that the house looks quite empty. She throws another look at Evan, questioningly and he nods. Inside, then. And there comes another surprise. When no one opens after a pro forma knock, Jones tries the door latch… and the door opens without difficulties.

 Another look at Evan and the guys and she finds herself confirmed again. Something’s not right here and the whole thing already gives her the creeps. She can feel goose bumps all along her arms and her neck. Gripping her rifle a little tighter, she enters the house after Jones went in. It’s not a big house and after only a few minutes they have all four rooms secured.

 “So… anyone noticed anything strange?” Evan suddenly breaks the silence and she has to muster up a lot of energy not to jump at his low voice.

 “You mean, apart from the fact that this whole village is empty, only an hour or something after we got the distress call?” She’s put more sarcasm into her voice than she’d wanted to, but she still needs to cover up the small shock after Evan speaking up.

 “Lieutenant…” He’s _not_ amused. But before she can answer, Jones speaks up.

 “There are no traces of any fighting.”

 “Exactly.” Evan nods and after a few moments to think, he shakes his head. “We need to find out what happened here but this is too big for just one team. We’ll go back to the ‘Gate and call in reinforcements. Alright, move out.” Well, she thinks, that was one of the shortest missions she ever had. But she agrees with him. Whatever happened here, it’s too big for a team of four soldiers.

 So they leave the house again, in the same formation. She hates to admit it but when Evan ordered them back to the ‘Gate, she felt actually relieved. The goose bumps just won’t stop and she’s started to feel watched as well. She’s sure she’ll feel better with a little more firepower on their side.

 But obviously Fate decided not to make this too easy for them. When they’ve reached the edge of the forest, she hears a faint, but very pronounced “Aw, _crap_.” from Evan. Before either of them can ask, he’s already showing them the lifesigns detector. And suddenly there’s quite a bunch of them on it, right in front of the ‘Gate. Starting to move towards them. They all share a look and it becomes quite apparent that none of them thinks it’s just the villagers greeting them and having a good laugh about a little prank call at Atlantis.

 “We’re gonna take cover in the woods east of the village and head for the town. _Move_.” In one fluent move, they turn around and run east. They make it to the forest and dive for cover, just in the right moment. The first lifesigns have nearly reached the village. All of them are lying behind a log and have their rifles trained on the entrance to the woods in the direction of the ‘Gate.

 And then they are there. She nearly gasps. She’d counted on a lot of things – raised pitchforks, maybe, and torches, the usual rabid mob things… but she wasn’t prepared for _that_. A few moments she’s scared enough to start rambling ‘Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.’ under her breath but years of training and drill have left enough iron clamps on her fear that she can just barely hold back herself.

 There, in the ghostly moonlight, a group of maybe ten or fifteen… _figures_ is moving through the village, silent and not quite like humans. But what shocks her the most is when she trains the scope of her weapon on one of the figures faces. It used to be human, she can recognize _that_ , but now… it’s distorted with countless cuts, bruises and lacerations. There’s dried blood on it and mud and… then she sees the eyes and it makes her hands tremble.

 She can’t remember ever having seen such malice, such _bloodlust_ in the eyes of _any_ human being before. It makes her blood run cold, her toes curl and the little hairs on her neck stand up. For a moment, she actually freezes in her position. Then she manages to close her eyes and turn away from the scope.

 Luckily, she finds herself face to face with Evan, only inches apart from him and looks into his eyes that are still calm and reassuring, even if his face has tensed up as well. She realizes that as long as his eyes are like this, she won’t panic because she trusts him and his judgment with her life.

 Then the moment is gone and very carefully he moves to signal her that there’s still a considerable amount of lifesigns clustering the ‘Gate and that he wants the team to get around them in a wide curve. She nods and relays the signal to Jones and Meyers. In the village, the figures have gathered on the square, as if they were having some briefing or meeting. Great, she inwardly groans, they’re organized. Organized and _mad_.

 Another look at Evan, and he just nods and very carefully gets up. With a growing bad feeling in her heart, she gets up as well and follows him, hoping that these figures won’t hear them. Or, worse, have lifesigns detectors of their own.


	4. Three

** Three **

 It’s not the first time she ever ran for her life but it’s the first time she’s mortally afraid while doing it. Really, she’s had darts chasing her, Jaffa, Unas, rabid mobs… but never a mass of very silent beings whose eyes and teeth glitter in the moonlight and make them look like a mixture between a human and some deadly predator that usually can only be found in the deepest, darkest nooks and crannies of a science-fiction writer’s mind.

 She can see them, shadows behind her team members, now and then popping up between trees. At the moment they’re still too far away to mean any harm to her team, but they’re approaching fast. They’d just needed five minutes or something for their briefing or whatever they were doing there on the market square and then suddenly they’d started off into the woods… right into their direction. God, she still hopes they acted on a lucky guess and without a lifesigns detector.

 Running… she needs to keep on running, needs to keep up with Evan and the boys… she’s fit, yes, but the additional fear makes her feel like she’s going to faint any minute. Her lungs have never felt so much like bursting before, her legs have never felt this week before… “Argh.” At first she doesn’t notice it but then it clicks and she realizes that Jones has just grunted very faintly. She stops and looks back. Crap. They have a man down.

 She returns to where Evan and Meyers are crouching. Jones obviously tripped over something on the ground and fell down. A little further away she can hear the soft rustling of leaves, just barely audible. She wants to believe that it’s really just the wind, but something inside her tells her that this is one of these days… one of these days where the rustling is caused by bloodthirsty insane villagers or wherever these beings come from rather than the wind.

 Meyers, their combat medic, has just given Jones’ ankles a quick once-over and shakes his head with a worried glance, pointing to the right ankle. Aw, _crap_. Is there _nothing_ going right today? In frustration, she looks down… and stops. This isn’t something you usually see on a forest floor… it’s flat and rusty… and looking very artificial. Her gaze travels a little further and finds the source of Jones’ fall: a door handle. He tripped over a trap door.

 A quick glance at the forest tells her that the beings are coming nearer and that they need to do _something_ , and do it _fast_. Losing no time, she gets Evan’s attention and signals him that they have to move Jones away and fucking open this trap door. Thankfully, he understands her without any further delay.

 When they’ve finally managed to open the damn rusty thing, the beings are only about 30 feet away. As fast as possible, they hurry down the ladder they discovered beneath the door. When the guys are through, she gets in as well and as soon as she’s shut the door, she puts her knife through the handles to function as an improvisational anchor. Then, as an afterthought, she adds half a packet C4 and a remote detonator to the wall just under the door, hoping the room beneath the ladder is in fact a tunnel. Otherwise, an explosion at the trap door would probably grill everyone down there as well.

 “Dammit, Lieutenant, what are you doing still up there?” suddenly Evan’s slightly annoyed voice drifts upward to her. She rolls her eyes.

 “Covering our damn asses. Sir.” she shouts down to him while she climbs through the shaft. He’s got his arms crossed, resting on his P90, when she arrives the end of the ladder.

 “Covering our damn asses?” He raises an eyebrow. What, did he think she was just dillydallying a little around and enjoying the scenery?

 “Uh, yeah. Stuck the knife in as an anchor and put some C4 and a remote detonator on the door, in case they realize we’re down here. The blast should take at least five or six of them out, depending on how many are in close proximity to it. When they’re in the shaft, of course.” His face changes from annoyed to appreciative and he nods.

 “Good thinking. Come on, I want to show you something.” With that he leads her a few feet down the tunnel – she can’t describe how _relieved_ she is that this _is_ a tunnel – to where Jones and Meyers are standing. “Meyers found this and I want you to have a look at it.” He gestures to the wall. She knits her brows together. In the sparse light from the P90s’ flash lights, she can see a few lines on the wall… and letters. In… something resembling Ancient. Huh.

 Who would’ve thought he’d make a mental note of her mentioning in passing that some of Rodney’s knowledge of Ancient stuck with her after her time in his head? That had been one of the very rare occasion that they’d spoken about this particular event in her life and it hadn’t even been the major topic of their conversation back then.

 “Well?” She looks at him. Another expectant look. Oh God, he doesn’t count on miracles from her, right? Because, really, it _could_ be _some_ form of Ancient, but she’s not even sure… ah hell. They need to use every possible chance to get away and here might be one. Squinting a little, she takes a moment to try and decipher the gibberish on the wall. Then… she has some kind of epiphany. Of _course_.

 “It’s a map, sir.” She’s not sure, but didn’t she just hear Jones mutter ‘No, _really_?’? But she chooses to ignore it. They’re all on the edge so something likes that was bound to come up sooner or later. “And… as far as I see it… this was some kind of retreat, whenever there was a culling happening. Judging by this text,” she gestures to the upper right of the map, “and this sign… this is a tunnel system leading to a similar trap door near the ‘Gate. Voila, our way off this planet.”

 She even allows herself a smug grin. Finally, having had to spend time in Rodney McKay’s head pays off. In a flash of gratefulness she promises herself she’ll be a little nicer to McKay… at least for the next three or four weeks. The fact that Carson would appreciate this as well hasn’t had any influence on this decision. Nope.

“You sure?” She can barely keep from rolling her eyes. Why couldn’t Evan do her the favor and trust her judgment? It’s not like she ever gave him reason not to. Besides, it was _his_ idea in the first place.

 “Yes, sir. I suggest we take a picture of this one, just in case there won’t be any more maps.”

 “Right. Jones, take out the camera.” In that moment, they can hear a very loud _bang_. Their pursuers have finally found the trap door. “ _Hurry_.” As fast as he can, Jones takes the picture and without further ado, they start running down the corridor.

 After they’ve rounded the first corner, she bellows a loud “Fire in the hole!” and presses the remote’s button. The sound of an explosion rings through the tunnel and renders them nearly deaf for a few moments. All of them shake their heads to get rid of the ringing sound in their ears. Not waiting for it to happen, Evan signals them all to continue running.

 She wishes, though, Jones would have found the trap door without hurting himself in the process because he’s seriously slowing them down. She can see it in his eyes, even in the sparse light of their flash lights, that he _knows_ he’s become a liability. She hasn’t spent much time with the Sergeants of her Marine detachment but she knows that all of them are very dedicated and the best the Corps has to offer, so she understands that the pain in Jones’ eyes isn’t just caused by the sprained ankle.

 But as it is now, they can’t do anything against the ankle and have to keep running as fast as they can. As they round corner after corner, her ears are finally starting to clear and now she can hear footsteps pursuing them. They’re coming closer and she keeps throwing looks over her shoulder. Suddenly, Jones stops, making Meyers swear at him and drag him forward, but Jones just shakes his head. “Sergeant, what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Evan hisses.

 “Saving my team, sir,” Jones grounds out and starts limping _towards_ the advancing footsteps. Before anyone else can react, she’s already grabbed him by his shoulder. No way he’s gonna do this. _No one_ will sacrifice himself for her or anyone else.

 “Denied. Come on, Sergeant, it’s just a few more corners…” The steps are still coming nearer. Just one or two more corners and the team will be theirs for the taking. They don’t have _time_ to play sitting ducks. But Jones obviously made up his mind, because he doesn’t listen to her. Instead, he pries her fingers lose and tugs at something around his neck. She shakes her head, disbelieving. He’s _not_ preparing to give her his dog tags, right?

 “Sergeant, the Lieutenant _told_ you to…” But Evan could have spoken to a wall for all she knew because yes, there are Jones dog tags in her hand. And their pursuers around the corner. With a mental strength she didn’t know anyone could ever posses Jones pulls two grenades out of his vest and pulls the splints out while running and limping towards the snarling and hissing… beings.

 She _knows_ she should be running, shooting, doing _something_ , but the sheer bloodlust in the beings’ eyes and the inability to accept Jones’ sacrifice have her rooted to the spot. And then Jones arrives at the mob and… immediately they start hacking at him with knifes, axes… everything a human can hack another one to pieces with.

 Some of them even attack him with their bare teeth and claws. She wants to run, to hide, but doesn’t find the strength to look away… until Evan finally grabs her arm and pulls her away very forcefully, shouting “Lieutenant, we need some _cover_ ,” and firing a few salvos into the raging mob. Only then she realizes that Jones pulled the grenades’ splints and that they will detonate any moment now.

 But she’s finally recovered her wits and when she sees a door after a few more steps, she doesn’t hesitate to open it and dive in, closely followed by the guys. She can shut the door just in the same moment Jones finally lets go of the grenades.

 


	5. Four

** Four **

 It’s been about 20 minutes since the explosion and still nobody has said a word. As soon as it was over, they’d started to explore the room in silence, finding a rather big room, filled with old metal chairs, tables and two metal cots. They’d used all of them to bar the door, not trusting the deathly calm after the explosion. After the first feverish activity, the impact of what had just happened had made its way into their minds and by then an overwhelming exhaustion had set in. Meyers had been able to check them all for injuries but that had been it.

 Ever since then they’ve been sitting on the far end of the room, the door in their view. So far no one has come by and tried to break in but none of them trusts the calm. All the time she’s had her hand tightly closed around Jones’ dog tags. Only now she can finally convince herself to open it. Still a little disbelieving, she stares at the dog tags, maybe for a full minute. She just realized that they are most probably the only things left of First Sergeant Matthew Jones, USMC.

 And she would have stared at the dog tags for an infinite amount of time if it hadn’t been for the hand that gently takes the dog tags away in that moment. Still a little dazed, she looks up to see Evan carefully putting away the dog tags inside his jacket. He doesn’t say anything but somehow she knows he did that as much for her sake as for Jones’ sake. After that it’s silence again.

 But a few minutes later, she’s finally woken up from her half-daze and something comes to her mind. “Evan?” She knows she shouldn’t be using his first name but she’s really way past caring about whether Meyers will hear it or not.

 “Yeah?” He sounds tired, weary… every death under his command ways him down a little more, she realizes. She’s almost sorry for what she’s going to ask now but she just has to, anyway.

 “We’ll be sending back another empty casket, won’t we?” He says nothing, just folds his hands in his neck and leans his head forward. For a moment it looks like he’s going to break, but then he leans his head back again, has obviously managed to pull himself together. She admires him for this incredible strength.

 “Yes, we will. Laura?” So he has also given up on the ‘Major on duty, Evan off-duty’-routine.

 “Yeah?” She hopes she sounds more awake and alert than she actually is. If he can hold it together just for a little while longer, then she can do it as well. She wouldn’t let herself be bested by a _Zoomie_ , would she?

 “I… promise there won’t be any more caskets on this mission. I’ll make sure of that.” She wonders if she’s ever told him that one of her biggest fears is that the only things that are left of her to be shipped back to her family on Earth are her dog tags, but then she remembers she never tells anyone what she’s afraid of. Rodney McKay is the only one who knows a bit about that, and she’s made absolutely sure he will _never_ blab about any of it. So she doesn’t say anything, just leans back her head and closes her eyes. No more caskets. Yes, that would be a major improvement.

 And then he surprises her by taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Instead of taking it away like she should have, though, she only moves her hand to squeeze back. It’s just a small gesture, but as she already knows, he’s not wholly insensitive. He’s obviously perfectly aware that this is maybe the closest he will ever come to see her admitting that she’s scared out of her wits of something.

 She keeps her eyes closed, just for a few more moments, to revel in the feeling of someone’s… _Evan’s_ hand in hers. It tells her that no matter what happens on this planet, he will take care of her, and it reminds her of the way Carson used to comfort her. Carson… it’s the first moment she has the leisure to think about him. Usually, she pushes all these thoughts away from her on missions, but usually, she doesn’t have moments like these, with such a treacherous calm. The impending doom not to forget but she won’t think of that, at least for a few minutes more.

 She still wishes she could have gone with Carson on this fishing trip… and not mainly because then she wouldn’t be sitting in some dungeon waiting to be slaughtered by crazed villagers, but because she’d finally worked up the courage to do _something_ about the whole situation between Carson and her after she’d said her good night to Evan.

 God, it seems like a thousand years have gone by since then. As her mind wanders to the land of ‘Might have been’ it occurs to her that there is a very palpable chance she might never know if there could have been something new between Carson and her. In fact… there is a very good chance she might not know about a _lot_ of things, if this mission goes any farther down the drain. It hits her unexpectedly and so hard that she can’t help squeezing Evan’s hand again, just to release the strain. He doesn’t say anything, only squeezes back, and for that she’s grateful.

 But she lets go only a few seconds after that because there’s only so much sentimentalism a Marine – and most probably an Air Force officer as well – on a mission can stomach. Besides, they still need to get out of this hellhole. He seems to have had the same thoughts, because he finally says, Alright. I don’t think we should put off leaving any longer. Quite frankly, I don’t want to wait for any reinforcements from Atlantis, and I don’t think it’ll make any difference if we wait another hour or not. So… suggestions?”

 She opens her eyes again and forces herself to come back to the present. Task at hand, Cadman, task at hand. Meyers is the first to speak up, though, “No way these loonies are gone. I say we just shoot our way out of here.” Evan merely raises and eyebrow and looks at her.

 “Laura?” She takes a minute to check the ammunition left in her Beretta and in her P90, then answers.

 “Affirmative on the first. But we won’t hold long against them. I’m positive there’s more than one group, and we still have the group at the ‘Gate waiting to worry about. We’ll need all our ammo for them. How much C4 do you have left?” Both of the guys check their vests. Eight packets for all of them, plus her seven and a half packets… She does a quick calculation, then nods. “Good. First thing: One grenade behind us, one man to secure the corridor forward. When everything’s clear, we exit the room. I’ll need you to cover my six while I mine the corridor. Every time it looks like they are behind us, I’ll detonate a charge. Everything that’s _in front_ of us is in your responsibility. You okay with that?”

 “Affirmative. Alright… everyone get up. Let’s get this stuff removed from the door.” So they finally get up again and quickly put away everything they’ve put in front of the door. Shortly, before they’re done and are about to open the and hurl the grenade outside, she feels like she just _has_ to tell him that she’s sorry for what happened back on Atlantis _now_. In a bout of courage, she grabs his arm and says, “Evan…”

 But he cuts her short, locking his eyes with her and saying very, _very_ seriously, “No, save it for later. Whatever you want to say now, tell me when we’re back on Atlantis. It’ll feel like some ‘Just want to get this off my chest, because I might die.’-speech, and I don’t want to hear any of this now. Understood?”

 It’s important to him, she can see that. The intensity of feelings in his eyes even scares her a bit, because she can’t remember ever having seen something like this before. There’s only one thing she can say now, “Yes, sir.”

 He nods. “Good. Now let’s get this over with.” She’s surprised to see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and she realizes that he just used the phrase she’d said to him shortly before stepping through the ‘Gate. Something inside her tells her that he wants to let her know he’s already accepted any apology she’ll serve to him, no matter what, and for some reason that leads to a rather warm and fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 “Right.” She clears her throat. Focus, she tells herself, _focus_. “Meyers… get the P90 ready. We’ll do this on my mark and then immediately shut the door again.” The Sergeant just gives her quick salute and they set off for work.

 


	6. Five

** Five **

 The bang from the grenade still echoes in their ears, but they still set off without any delay. They move quickly and silently, with her stopping now and then to patch some C4 against the walls and place the detonators. But even after a few more corners, they haven’t discovered any resistance. It’s starting to make her edgy again but she needs all her concentration to set the charges.

 They work their way forward, efficient, silent and fast, and nothing and no one stands in their way. She wants to believe with all her heart that they finally hit a lucky streak and will make a clean get-away. For a “simple scouting mission” they’ve had far too much hassle already, and she’d be thankful if they didn’t run into any more trouble. Somehow, though, she doubts they’ll be this lucky.

 But as it is, things are quiet in the corridors. She really wants to be comforted by that but something inside her – most probably her inner Rodney McKay – tells her that the impending doom is just prolonged to somewhere she really doesn’t want to encounter it. “Sir?” She whips around, ready to give Meyers a good tongue-lashing for breaking radio silence and interrupting her precious concentration but she manages to rein in her impulsiveness just for once. This isn’t the time for dressing down someone, and most of all it just isn’t her place to do it.

 “What is it, Sergeant?” Evan says, not turning around, but she thinks she just made out some edge in his voice that hasn’t been there before.

 “Shouldn’t we be meeting some resistance?” ‘Course, Captain Obvious, she wants to reply, but thankfully Evan is faster.

 “Good question. Been wondering about that, too.” Well, she would have been seriously worried if he _hadn’t_. “My guess is they’ve prepared something big, probably at the ‘Gate or one of the exits there. Laura?”

 Now he turns around and she turns to face him. “Yeah?” He knits his brows together and it occurs to her that the strain is starting to wear him thin as well. She’d just never seen it before, because she never got this close to him and because she never knew how to read him correctly before. He does show insecurity and weakness, but the signs are much more subtle and need a longer time to surface than with all the other soldiers she knows, maybe even including Sheppard and Mitchell. 

 “Can you keep enough C4 to make a blast big enough to kill anyone who might lurk around in the immediate surroundings of an exit hole without actually opening the hatch before?” She takes deep breath, grimaces a little and runs a few quick calculations through her head. Technically… yes, it would be possible. But she’d need a bit of time for figuring out how to program the remote so she wouldn’t blow up the whole facility.

 She tells him so, and all he does is nod and say, “We’ll make sure you get the time.” With that they continue their silent trail through the empty corridors and hallways, until they finally arrive at one of the exits that should, according to the map on the wall, be near the ‘Gate. Evan pulls out his lifesigns detector but like every time since they entered this underground shelter, it doesn’t tell them anything. He doesn’t comment on it, just heaves a small silent sigh.

 A nod towards her tells her to get up the ladder and place her charges. With her face set determined, she takes the steps up, does as she’s expected to and climbs back. Before she gives another shout of “Fire in the hole!” it fleetingly crosses her mind that she’s done a lot of blowing up on this mission; especially considering her statement about this mission not being one which demanded the presence of a demolitions specialist. But that’s the Pegasus Galaxy for you, she thinks. Full of surprises. She just hopes that blowing up this hatch will rid them of a few unpleasant ones.

 And yes, when the explosion is over and everything has cooled down enough to climb back up, all seems quiet on the hatch front. Quickly, the guys climb up and she follows them. Meyers is the first to reach the top, and gives them the all clear. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she follows Evan to the surface.

 “Well…” she starts saying, but the sentence turns into a cry of surprise and pain as a bullet hits her right shoulder. Immediately all of them dive for cover, because now the bullets have started to rain down on them from almost every direction. They are sitting behind another fallen tree, and she hopes the guys haven’t registered her cry and is thankful for the dark because it hides the blood and the torn vest.

 Gritting her teeth, she ignores the pain as well as she can and joins the guys in methodically firing into the woods, to where the bullets are coming from, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect. Evan seems to have had the same though, since he pulls out one of his grenades and throws them into the direction of the nest that is blocking their way to the ‘Gate. With a satisfying explosion, it silences any shots coming from there.

 “To the ‘Gate, _now_!” he shouts, as if they’d really need an incentive. Shooting up and dashing to the ‘Gate through the hail of bullets, she briefly wonders where the _hell_ these lunatics got the guns from. Weapons cache, it shots through her mind, and something clicks… _Explosives_. If they indeed raided one of the weapons caches the Atlantis Expedition left behind, they should be in the possession of explosives as well.

 And the way they’ve waited for them to ambush them just when they thought they were finally safe suggests that their madness is not that of raving lunatics, but of cold-blooded killers that can hold back their blood thirst to lure their victims in the bloodiest trap possible… _booby traps_!

 All this runs through her head in the matter of only seconds, and when she realizes what all this means, she spotts the telltale sign of a remote detonator on the ground, only a few feet left of Evan… in this moment she stops thinking and simply lurches forward to throw him off his feet and push him farther away from the charge. At first, nothing happens and she can push him a few more feet and move to shield him, but then there’s suddenly an explosion in their backs, strong enough to pierce her with shrapnel and scorch the back of her vest enough to burn some of it away.

 She feels a little dizzy from the shockwave and needs a moment to register that Evan is sitting up and has asked her something. Or maybe he called something to Meyers over the still hammering bullets. Slowly, she shakes her head to clear away the confusion. “Laura? Can you get up?” Sure she can. What a stupid question, really. Gritting her teeth again, she only nods and tries to get up.

 Well, _trying_ being the operative word. After two unsuccessful attempts at getting up, she feels herself hauled up and dragged towards the ‘Gate. She knows she has to run as fast as possible, but the multiple cuts, deeply buried shrapnel pieces and the burned parts of her back make it kind of hard for her to keep up with Evan. Still, she’s a Marine, and Marines don’t whine or give up. They buck up and do as they’re told.

 So she pulls herself together and stumbles the last few yards to the ‘Gate. Then, when they are nearly there, she suddenly trips over a root on the ground – or at least she _thinks_ she just tripped, because there’s no way her legs could have just given out under her – and hits the ground hard. She wants to struggle up again, but Evan’s there to grab her and drag her behind the nearest stone. She manages to prop herself up, when Evan starts fussing around with her vest and coming dangerously clear to the shoulder wound. The last thing she needs now is for him to discover this really small thing and start worrying.

 So she tries shaking him off with her shoulders and grinding out, “I’m fine.”

 He looks quite unimpressed by her feeble attempts, though. “No, you’re not. Now, shut up and stop wriggling.”

 “Honestly, Evan, I’m _fine_. I can…” He hits something and pain shots through her, making her nearly faint. In fact… she doesn’t feel too good at all. Can’t barely keep her eyes open, with all the pain suddenly overwhelming her…

 “Laura! I said no more caskets, but you need to _help_ me.”

 Over the now nearer coming shots, Meyers suddenly calls, “Wormhole established, sir!”

 A short hopeful grin crosses his face, but she isn’t quite sure if he’s just keeping up appearances for her sake. “Okay, Laura, you hear that?” Hear… what? she thinks, trying to get through the pain and fatigue, but losing the battle fast. “Meyers, tell Atlantis we need a medical emergency team. And tell them to clear the ramp; we’re coming in hot.”

 She closed her eyes, so she doesn’t see the worry and desperation that have replaced the brief hope in his eyes as she feels his fingers brush against her cheek. “Help me, Laura. Fight the pain. Just for a few moments more.” She wants to tell him that yes, of course, she’ll do it, but she finds she needs all her strength to stay awake and lucid. A groan is the only thing that makes it out of her mouth, but obviously that’s enough for him. “Thanks, Laura.” With that she feels him lifting her up and carrying her towards the ‘Gate. She even manages to stay lucid long enough to realize they’ve really made it back to Atlantis after all.


	7. Six

** Six **

 As he arrives at the ‘Gate Control Room, with Laura in his arms, the medical team is already there. All he has to do is put her on the stretcher and let the medics do the rest. As soon as he did it, he realizes that one of the things he dreaded is happening: Carson Beckett is one of the members of the emergency team. He’d sworn to himself he’d bring back Laura unharmed, and he didn’t. Seeing the Doc working on her dumps a ton of guilt on him.

 He wants to walk over and tell Carson that he’s sorry for getting Laura into this mess but he feels rooted to the spot by fatigue, guilt and the pain of seeing Laura fighting for her life. Here he stands, right at the end of the ramp, with her blood all over his hands and his BDUs, and he can’t put a foot in front of the other. His head is all… empty.

 “Major?”

 Slowly he turns around, as if in a daze. Sheppard has stepped beside him. For a moment, he has no idea how to respond, let alone that he should respond at all. Then he remembers what they’ve drilled into him back in basic. “Sir?”

 “Woolsey wants you in his office ASAP for a debriefing.” He knows that the only appropriate answer would be a prompt “Yes, sir.”, but just this moment, the medical team pushes Laura’s stretcher out of the ‘Gate Control Room, and all he can do is stare after it, trying to catch a look at Laura to see if everything is alright. “However… I told him he should at least give you time to head to the armory and the infirmary and maybe grab a shower and something to eat first. He… wasn’t exactly thrilled, but deep down he’s a very sensible guy.”

 At first he doesn’t quite register what his CO has just told him but then Sheppard’s words somehow make their way through the guilt and exhaustion-induced haze in his mind. He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off this unusual post-battle confusion. “Thank you, sir.”

 “You’re welcome, Major. Now, armory, infirmary, shower, mess hall.” With that Sheppard claps him on the shoulder and sends him off to the nearest transporter. Only after giving him a final salute and leaving the ‘Gate Control Room, he notices Sheppard didn’t mention anything about “debriefing” in his last sentence.

 And so he decides to just make straight for the armory and get rid of the P90 and the Beretta and then head straight to the infirmary, though not for his post-mission physical. Laura should be in the OR right now, and he wants… _needs_ to see for himself that everything will be okay again. It doesn’t matter to him that he’s still in full combat gear, with the vest and everything. It doesn’t even matter to him that he’s pretty banged up himself. The only thing that matters to him in his exhausted and slightly dazed state is that Laura makes it through surgery.

 When he arrives at the infirmary, he doesn’t even stop to wave off the nurses and doctors trying to make him sit down for the physical but walks straight to the OR screens. There, he finally stops and watches them, suddenly feeling so helpless. Like every time one of his soldiers is inside there.

 He’s got astounding marks in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, leadership… he can command a battle cruiser and fly a space fighter… but he still can’t get all his soldiers through combat unscathed. And he can’t do anything once they’re hit. All he can do is watch the doctors do their work and stand on the sidelines and wonder what he did wrong _this_ time that landed one of his soldiers in there.

 This time, though… this time it’s even worse. It’s not just _some_ soldier of his, it’s _Laura_. Laura is… Laura isn’t even just a friend, she’s… he doesn’t dare going there, because she’s… well… the Doc’s girl. And you don’t touch other guys’ girls, right? Most of all, if it’s a guy you _like_. Well, and who knows how to inflict pain with sharp and pointed objects, come to think of it.

 Still… he feels not only helpless, but also _guilty_. He’d promised himself he’d bring her back to the Doc, without a scratch. In fact, he’d rather have himself hurt than let anything happen to Laura. And then the stupid jarhead goes and pushes _him_ out of the line of fire. It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to go like this. Never.

 For what seems like an eternity he just stands there, watching the doctors operate on her, his weariness only penetrated when she’s suddenly crashing and Keller and Beckett furiously bringing her back. Now and then, a nurse or a doctor would come by, trying to coax him into _finally_ taking that damn physical but he just wouldn’t let them. There are far more important things than stupid physicals and…

 “Major?” Startled he looks up to see Colonel Sheppard stand beside him. “No offense, but… didn’t I tell you to get your physical and then head to the mess hall?” He actually needs a moment to get the Colonel’s meaning.

 “I have a soldier in the OR, sir. She already crashed once. I think I better stay here just a little while longer.” He hopes Sheppard gets the hint that this is his very subtle and polite way to tell his superior to just fuck off and leave him alone. He’s a grown man and can very well take care of his own. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

 For a while, Sheppard is silent, but he doesn’t leave. Then, “I have no idea what’s been going on between you and Cadman lately but I do know one thing: You have to stop feeling guilty for what happened. You know as well as I that Cadman knew what she signed up for. It was _her_ decision to do what she did, and it’s not your fault. Now be a good 2IC and don’t make me order you to bed.”

 His first impulse is to turn around and plant a good one on Sheppard, just for the possible hint at something inappropriate between Laura and him, but then the dutiful soldier in him wins, just like most times. So he settles with something a little less violent: ice-cold politeness. “With all due respect, sir, but what or who I feel guilty about is my own business, as well as how I spend my down time. And right now I chose to see for myself that everything will be okay with Lau… Lieutenant Cadman. I’d appreciate it if you’d accept this.”

 “Major… don’t do this. I know you care for every man and woman under your command, but… this just isn’t like you. Go to bed. She’s in the hands of doctors that are probably the most capable of _two_ galaxies. She’ll be okay.” He knows that technically Sheppard is right. There is no one else than Dr. Keller, Dr. Beckett and their team that he would trust with Laura’s well-being. But for some reason… he feels like he can’t let her out of his sight. Not again, not after everything.

 Still, he owes Sheppard a decent answer, mostly because Sheppard isn’t talking to him like a CO, and he’s grateful for that. “I know, sir. I’ll just… wait until they’re done with surgery and then head for some shuteye. Promise,” he adds as an afterthought, which prompts a grin that just tugs at the corners of Sheppard’s mouth.

 For a while, they both watch the OR screens in silence. She’s still on the table but at least she seems to be stable now. He can’t see much apart from her face, with the tubes and wires. The doctors are working swift and professional, but her face remains perfectly still. And she’s so… _pale_.

An image flashes through his mind. Laura, the night before the mission, her eyes sparkling as she threw the empty sandwich package at him… and telling him she doesn’t believe he’d ever get drunk. Well… if he wasn’t so dead tired, the first thing he’d do after they’re done with her surgery and she’s out of the woods would be finding a secluded corner and getting absolutely royally _shitfaced_.

 Then, suddenly, he finds Dr. Keller standing beside him. Huh? He didn’t fall asleep on his feet, right? “Major, Colonel…” He turns around, prepared for the worst, but Jennifer Keller is smiling. Looking tired, with her scrubs bloodied, but smiling. “Lieutenant Cadman is stable. It’ll take her some time for recovery but she made it.” He wants to jump at her, hug her, kiss her for the message.

 But all he does his allowing himself the faintest of smiles and say, “Thanks, Doc. Could you… inform me when she’s awake?” She nods.

 “Of course. And now… I’d advice _you_ to get your post-mission physical and then head for your bed. Preferably for more than six hours.” She throws a pointed look at Sheppard who holds up his hands and manages a perfect “I didn’t do anything”-expression. Huh. How did Laura _ever_ get the idea _he_ could compete with _Sheppard_ in any regard?

 “Don’t look at _me_ , Doc. _I_ tried to send the Major to bed, _before_ he fell asleep on his feet. He just wouldn’t listen to me.” Argh. Dammit. So he hadn’t been imagining it. This is just this side of embarrassing. Falling asleep right beside your CO. Way to go, Major, he thinks and whishes himself several light years away from where he’s standing.

 “Well, uh, the Major would prefer it if you wouldn’t talk about him like he isn’t there, thank you very much.” Oh, and now he’s starting to get grumpy. This really is his clue to finally heed Sheppard’s and Keller’s advice. “Alright… uh… never mind. Just… lead the way, Doctor.” A little smirk grazes Keller’s face as she gives Sheppard a short look, as if to say “You might be the guy with the gun, but I’m scarier.” Then she walks past the both of them and with a silent sigh, he starts to follow her.

 But just as he is about to exit the room with the screens, a thought floats to the surface of his sleep-muddled brain and he turns around to Sheppard. “Permission to ask you something, sir?”

 Sheppard, who seems to have been lost in thought for a few moments, looks up a little startled and then says, “Sure, ask away.”

 He takes a deep breath. It’s not an easy question, but he really has to ask. “If I’d said that Lieutenant Cadman was scheduled for a day off and that she had a date with Dr. Beckett… would it have made any difference?”

 Sheppard takes a breath to say something… but then obviously thinks better of it and just answers, “Do yourself a favor, Major, and listen to my advice: don’t go there. Don’t even _think_ about going there.”

 He wishes he could but it’s already too late. Laura had been right: He could have said something a few hours – that now feel like years to him – ago, when he’d been told that Lieutenant Cadman would be joining them on a scouting mission. He should have told them what she’d said: that there was no need for a second officer, let alone a demolitions specialist.

 But he hadn’t, and now she is in the infirmary because she’d pushed him and shielded him from an explosion _he_ should have seen coming in the first place. But he doesn’t tell Sheppard any of this, because this is his own private hell. Instead he just nods and says, “Yes, sir. Sir?” Something else has come to his mind.

 “What is it, Major?”

 “I take it I’m expected to report for debriefing in an hour?” He can see that Sheppard wants to tell him that he’s not expected for debriefing for the rest of the day because his CO really wants to do him a favor, but obviously there’s been something in his face or his voice that has told Sheppard that he needs a task he can concentrate on, a task that keeps him from constantly worrying about Laura and about what the Doc will say to him.

 “Two hours, Major. In Woolsey’s office.” He just nods and tips his head in a small salute. Two hours… he can handle two hours, if he keeps himself busy with all the post-mission stuff.

 “Yes, sir.” With that he finally sets off to face Keller’s usual scrutiny and disapproval of male military behavior.


	8. Seven

** Seven **

 It’s 0500, and he has finally given up on trying to sleep. Instead of tossing and turning around in his bed, he opted for having a good, long, exhausting run around the city. The corridors are nearly deserted, with the main shift beginning 0800 and the graveyard shift still in its usually uneventful routine.

 And so he’s running and trying to get everything out of his system. Everything from the first minutes on this wretched planet to the moment he finally left Woolsey’s office. And beyond, maybe. At first it seems like running really gets his mind off all this stuff, but as he gets into his pace and his feet seem to find their way around Atlantis on their own, his thoughts return to what he’d actually wanted to forget about.

 It’s like someone put a DVD in his head and hit the “Play”-button without handing him the remote control to stop the movie that’s starting to enfold in his mind. His head replays the scene in the mess hall before the mission, the briefing with Sheppard and Woolsey and his failure to mention that Laura had been given a day off, the moment Laura arrived at the armory… every little painful bit right up to the debriefing, where he’d laid out very carefully to Sheppard and Woolsey exactly how much he’d screwed this mission up.

 Sure, he’s kept everything concerning Laura and how much her partaking in the op has affected him to himself, but he didn’t have to mention that anyway. He shouldn’t have let Jones just give up like this, and he should have reacted a _lot_ faster when he’d seen Laura freezing up after Jones’ sacrifice. But for a moment or two _he’d_ frozen up himself.

 It nearly makes him insane, because really… he’s been with the SGC for how long now? Five years? Six years? He’s seen lots of death, destruction, carnage… but there are still moments when the sheer madness of this galaxy – and his own, mind you – chills him right to his bones and reduces him to a frightened little boy, if only for the fraction of a second. Seeing those… _things_ await Jones with a nearly gleeful anticipation… that had been even worse than seeing Ritter speared in the Unas village back on the mining planet, his first big operation with the SGC.

 Still… that had been a mistake, one that could have cost all their lives. And then not noticing the detonator back on the surface… what had he been _thinking_? If Laura had been smart enough to see it why hadn’t he? He’d come to the conclusion that these lunatics had raided the weapons caches, but he hadn’t been fast enough to make the connection with the explosives. If he had, Laura wouldn’t have been forced to throw herself between the explosion and him. If he had… Laura wouldn’t be down in the infirmary now.

 It all comes down to these two facts: If he’d been the officer he usually is, neither Jones would be dead nor would Laura be in the infirmary, probably needing weeks to fully recover. He seriously wonders how Sheppard can still put up with him. First losing Teyla, then not being fast enough to recognize Michael’s giant booby trap… and now getting Jones killed and Laura wounded. To him, it feels like he couldn’t do _anything_ right in the last few weeks and months.

 Abruptly he stops and before he knows it, his fist has hit the nearest wall with all the force he could muster up. Obviously, this is the moment where his frustration at himself, his fatigue, his anger at not giving a hundred percent, at all his recent failures finally made their way past his carefully retained and restrained façade.

 At first he stares at little dumbfounded at the blood on his knuckles, but then the pain sets in and his irritation flares up again. He’s really an _idiot_. But it’s no use getting aggressive for another time. With a little defeated sigh he sets off again, to the infirmary. Good thing it’s only the graveyard shift. He doesn’t even want to think about how hot the rumor mill would be getting if he’d come into the infirmary on the main shift, only in his running outfit, sweaty and with a bruised and maybe broken right hand.

 The pain in his hand makes running a _lot_ more unpleasant now, but he simply considers this the punishment he clearly deserves for all the mistakes he made in the last few months. Including hitting that stupid wall, of course. Thankfully, there’s a nurse available at once. She even is polite enough not to ask any questions and only shoots him one or two strange glances. Of course, tomorrow it will be all over the city, but he doesn’t care. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

 Then, when the nurse is done with the x-raying – no broken bones, at least – and wrapping of his hand, he feels himself inevitably drawn to one of the wards… the one where they put Laura. Ever since leaving the infirmary after his physical he hasn’t been down here again. Dr. Keller’s left him a message that Laura woke up, but his gut told him there would already be someone else at her bedside. And for some strange reason even the thought of the Doc and Laura being reunited alone made him wanting to stay as far away from the infirmary as possible.

 He knows he shouldn’t be thinking this, but ever since Laura came back to Atlantis, the thought of her and the Doc hooking up again makes him uneasy. He tries to be happy for her, like every good friend would, but it just doesn’t work. When Laura had mentioned that the Doc had asked her out on a quasi-date, he’d felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach… like he’d just been hit.

 He shakes his head, trying to chase away all these confusing and clearly inappropriate thoughts. Laura and him… wouldn’t work anyway. So he just has to content himself with being her friend. And as her friend, it’s perfectly reasonable to have a look at her… already being in the infirmary and everything.

 Carefully, he steps into the doorframe of the room, leaning against it, with his arms folded in front of him. There she is, lying in her bed, still looking very pale, but now without the tube down her throat. And at her side… there’s Carson Beckett’s head lying on the bed. He feels a stab at his heart and scolds himself for this stupid idea. He wants to turn around and leave, but suddenly Carson stirs.

 Lifting his head, Carson needs a moment to shake off sleep, but before he can use the slight moment of disorientation, Carson spotted him in the doorframe. The Doc knits his brows knit together for a moment – clearly looking not amused – and it looks like he’s going to dump a ton of reproaches down on him, but then he just clears his throat and says very quietly, “Major? What are you doing here?” Seems the Doc decided to treat him civilly for the time being, even if he has the right to do anything but.

 He tries to look casual, not nearly as tense as he feels inside, as he saunters over to Laura’s bed. “Couldn’t sleep, decided to do some running, had an… accident and thought I could very well check up on Lieutenant Cadman if I was already here.” The Doc regards his hand with a slightly disapproving face, but doesn’t ask any questions.

 Instead, he regards him with what could be a measuring gaze, before he finally settles with, “She asked for you, you know. After her surgery. Seemed a wee but concerned about you.” Concerned? _Laura_? About _him_? After just having had major surgery performed on herself? Clearly something isn’t right here.

 “Guess that was just the drugs or something. Maybe…” The Doc looks at him, with quiet disapproval in his face. Well, he thinks, here we go. _Finally_.

 “I spoke with Colonel Sheppard.” Oh. That’s… not good. But at least the Doc obviously finally decided to be blunt about the whole thing. So could he.

 “Listen, Doc, I… I’m sorry for… everything. If there’s anything I could do for you or Lau… Lieutenant Cadman, I’d very happy to…” He’s rambling, he realizes. It’s been some time since he’d last had a rambling fit as serious as this. Six years ago, to be precise, when he’d broken up with his then girlfriend. Back then, he felt as stupid as he’s feeling now.

 “It’s okay, son. John told me you did the best you could. Laura told me not to give you a hard time as well because she thinks you didn’t do anything wrong. And you brought her back alive. That’s everything I need.” That… surprises him. And it irks him. For some reason he would have been okay with reproaches, accusations and downright anger, but quiet acceptance, even understanding? That’s something he hadn’t counted on, and it confuses him. The Doc, though, just graces Laura’s sleeping form with a gaze that’s something between relieved and affectionate and he feels another stab at his heart. He really shouldn’t be here.

 Taking a deep breath he forces himself to ignore all the stabs and act like a concerned friend. “Right. Could you… could you please tell her I expect her to be up and about in less than a week?” He can see very clearly that the first thing the Doc wants to do is give him a good wigging about military commanders always interfering with the infirmary staff, but then the Doc obviously realizes that it was just his way of saying that he’s worried over Laura.

 Carson’s face grows a little softer again, and there’s even a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I would suggest you tell her so yourself, lad. I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

 It makes him smile a little himself. “Think so, Doc?” Carson’s face tightens for just a moment, but then he gives him a confident nod.

 “In fact, she’d be delighted. And now off to bed with you. I seem to remember that Jennifer mentioned confining you to the infirmary if you chose to go against her orders.” He could tell the Doc he couldn’t sleep anyway, because every time he closes his eyes, the villagers and Jones walking off to face them and Laura’s pained face come back to his mind, but what would be the use, anyway?

 So he just nods, tells the Doc goodbye, gives Laura a last lingering glance and makes his way back to quarters again. There’s still a mission report that needs to be finished, after all.


	9. Eight

** Eight **

 It’s been two weeks since the Lunatic Villagers Incident, as she now likes to refer to the mission, and she’s still not out of the infirmary. It seems as if the whole infirmary stuff wants to make an example out of her, demonstrating to the military of Atlantis that the only ones deciding who’s fine again and who isn’t are the doctors and nurses.

 Sure, her right arm is still in a sling, she can still feel occasional mild aftereffects of the concussion she received due to the shockwave, the burns on her back are still troubling her a bit… but anyway, she’s fine. And starting to get fidgety. If they don’t discharge her in the next two days, she’s going to discharge herself and be done with it.

 There are, however, a few perks she might even be missing after being released. Because at daytime, Carson is devoting every free minute to her; talking to her, bringing her little extra bits from the mess hall, amusing her with the scrapes and mishaps among the scientist community in Atlantis. He really does his best to take her mind off the fact it may very well take some time until she is allowed on duty again, let alone go off-world. She really enjoys his attention, but something is still holding her back from making that one final step. She blames it all on the infirmary’s very public character and hopes she can get away from its confines as soon as possible.

 But as long as she’s here, she likes that not only Carson dotes on her but that other people are dropping by as well. There’s – for example – Captain Reece from SGA-4 telling her about all the gossip among the resident Marines and confiding in her about the troubles with her Zoomie team leader, Major Moore. There’s also Dr. Ochovskaya from Engineering talking to her about the modification to the explosives lab. And sometimes even Rodney or Colonel Sheppard would come down for a quick visit.

 Although, if she’s honest with herself, there’s only one very special time of day for her. It’s in the late evening, around 2000, when the hustle and bustle of the city has quieted down to a low background hum. That’s the time Evan usually comes around for an hour or two.

 The first time he’d visited her, two days after she woke up again, he’d been a little awkward, being more on guard than usual, seeming to constantly look out for something or someone to come into the room. He’d claimed to be there only to tell her that they’d been back to the planet, this time with two jumpers and armed much heavier and had, after hours of fighting and digging around, found out that this whole thing had been one big set-up.

 Seems like someone – they obviously still aren’t sure if it was Michael, the Wraith or maybe a rogue faction of the Genii – had been experimenting with a neurotoxin on the villagers and the inhabitants of the nearby town, trying to convert them into a veritable strike force. The emergency message had been recorded when most of the inhabitants had still been lucid, loaded up into the communications relay and played at the signal of a timer. They’d found traces of the toxin in some lab and since then the scientists are trying to break up it’s structure and find the antidote. Which, if she got that right, seems to be some really urgent business because they’ve already discovered three other planets where it happened as well.

 When he’d told her about all of this, he’d looked slightly tired and worried. It became clear to her that he’d seen and done things he really didn’t want to talk about and tried to fight it all out with himself. She’d wanted to tell him he could confide in her but she knew very well that it wouldn’t be of any use, anyway. Evan Lorne is one of those guys that come to you if they really want to talk. If they don’t, they can withstand even the most violent prodding.

 So all she had done had been to tell him she wished she could have accompanied them, was glad that he was back unharmed – except for a strange bandage around his right hand which he just dismissed as “some accident” – and was expecting him to make her stay in the infirmary as worthwhile as he could, because, after all, she’d saved his hide. He’d smiled ruefully at that, shrugged and simply agreed.

 Ever since then, he makes a point of visiting her at least once a day when he’s in the city, usually he comes in the evening. He always brings a cup of tea for both of them, and then he’d greet her with the words “Still being a lazy ass, Lieutenant Cadman?” and settle down in the chair beside her bed. Sometimes he’d bring some mission report or other and either finish it at her bedside or read it to her, just to make her laugh. But more often they’d either just talk or – and that’s what happens on most evenings – he’d pick up the copy of _The Princess Bride_ he’d brought the second evening and read a chapter or so to her.

 At first she’d feebly protested that if she wanted to read, she could very well do it on her own but he’d just waved his hand and told her that whenever he’d been sick as a kid, his mother or his sister just sat down at his bedside and read something to him. He insisted that it had helped him get better in no time, and better than anything else.

 And if she’s honest: she likes listening to him reading to her with his storyteller voice. Plus she’s enough of a reader to appreciate his choice of a book. Of course she knows it, has read it at least twice, seen the movie… but there’s something about having it read to oneself that beats everything else. So on most evenings, after some casual chatter, she just leans back and lets him do his reading bit.

 Just like tonight. Tonight he came in a little late, telling her there had been a rather awkward incident involving two Marines and a broken shower that had needed quite some sorting out, but as soon as he’d settled down in his usual chair and picked up the book, he’d forgotten all about the incident. He’d gotten into the tale and she’d finally stopped fidgeting and everything was well again. 

 So when the man in black has just bested the Sicilian in the poison game, suddenly both of them hear a voice from the door drawl, “So all this infirmary gossip is true, after all.” Caught by surprise they both look at the door, to see Colonel Sheppard leaning casually against the doorframe. She sneaks a look at Evan and is delighted to see his cheeks coloring like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But to be honest… she feels her cheeks warming up similarly.

 Still, her brazen nature makes her find her voice again faster than Evan. “Care to tell us what exactly you’re talking about, Colonel?” Sheppard smirks a little and comes into the room, to stand beside Evan, who looks positively embarrassed now.

 “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the staff wondering aloud if there’s some fraternizing going on here.” Again, she beats Evan to an answer.

 “Can’t remember, no… _but_ I remember seeing a few jealous glances and a few nurses stating they wouldn’t mind getting a little bruised if that would get them a reading as well.” As soon as it’s out she regrets having said it, because Sheppard’s face lights up with glee. She just gave him a tool with which he will be able to torture Evan into all eternity.

 Obviously, he realized it as well, because he throws her a dark glare that only makes her want to giggle, and says, “Could it be that all your explosions have severely affected your hearing, Lieutenant? Maybe you really should let someone check it again.”

 She smirks and addresses Sheppard again. “Don’t mind the Major, sir. He’s just trying to cover up the fact that he only comes down here because he secretly enjoys all the female attention.”

 Now he looks ready to jump her and probably tickle her to death or something. Mentally, she makes a note for her “Things to crack Evan’s shell with” list and feels she’s advancing her private mission’s goal quite well. Sheppard swiftly adds another thing to her list, when he claps Evan on the shoulder and replies, “Oh, I don’t know… way I see it, there’s only _one_ female down here whose attention he enjoys.” 

 Well… maybe this made Evan blush again but it surely embarrassed _her_ more. Really, the mere suggestion of something like this… “Whoever your source is, sir, it’s clearly unreliable,” Evan replies a little stiffly and she wonders why he wants to dissociate himself so strongly from her.

 “Nah, I think they’re all pretty reliable. Can I see the book?” Reluctantly, Evan hands him the book that already looks a little battered, like it has been read and reread quite a few times. Sheppard looks at it, flips it over and raises his eyebrow. “Interesting choice. And now that I’ve seen for myself how much there actually is to the rumors, I’ll… just leave you to your… _reading_.” With that he gives Evan a slight punch in the arm and her a sloppy salute and turns to leave the room.

 No way she’s going to let him get away with this kind of sleazy innuendo, though. “Keep your mind out of the gutter!” He half turns around, his eyebrow raised. Crap. He’s her superior. Why does she constantly keep forgetting it? “Errr… keep your mind out of the gutter, _sir_.” She’s not quite sure but she thinks she’s seen Evan wince at her… well… bold reaction.

 Sheppard, though, just grins a little and replies, “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. _I_ was talking about _literature_. Maybe someone _else_ should get their mind out of the gutter.” And he gives her a pointed look.

 Before she can give something back, Evan basks in with a slightly snarky, “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure the Lieutenant keeps her mind everywhere but the gutter.”

 She can’t hold back muttering: “Right, because the gutter is the only inappropriate place my mind could wander to.” Again, she realizes too late that she said it out loud and is now ready to throw both of them out and just hide under her blanket for all eternity. _Both_ of them are her superiors, and she’s been trained – _drilled_ – to respect those. Talking like this would have gotten her in serious trouble back in ROTC training.

 She doesn’t dare looking up from her blanket, not even when she hears two suppressed snorts and then Sheppard says, “I’m sure the Major can manage to keep your mind from wandering into _all_ inappropriate places.” Still not looking up. Or maybe… just a little peep…

 Which reveals a rather devilish grin on Evan’s face, something she’s last seen when they’d had their late night talk two weeks ago. Uh-oh. “Actually… that would be a full-time job, sir. I would clearly not be available as your 2IC anymore.” What the…? The _bastards_. They’ve ganged up on her!

 Well… what did she expect?

 It’s just what she gets for being such a damn loudmouth. But they really don’t have to look _this_ smug. She sits up straight, smoothing the creased blanket and tries to say in her most dignified voice, “ _I_ don’t need any help from _you_ for thinking straight, thank you very much.”

 “In fact, what you need to do now is sleep.” Startled all three of them turn to the entrance, where Carson is standing with a clipboard in his hand. She doesn’t know why, but she feels herself blushing again. Maybe it’s because it _is_ past her bedtime, maybe it’s because she’s slowly becoming sick of infirmary personnel telling her when to go to sleep, as if she were a little kid… or maybe – but that is really _highly_ unlikely – it’s because Evan has been sitting for a little longer at her bedside than all the other times and that makes her feel funny towards Carson.

 Before she can answer Carson, Sheppard excuses himself, nodding to Evan and Carson and then exiting the room, while Evan stands up again, collecting the two cups and wanting to leave as well but she holds him back, saying, “Oh, hey, wait! It’s not even 2230, yet. And we haven’t finished the scene, you know.” She has no idea where this comes from, but she feels like she really doesn’t want to let him go just yet.

 Evan, though, just shoots Carson a strange glance and replies in a somewhat restrained voice, “No, I guess the Doc’s right.” Then he looks at her again, his expression friendly, but a little forced. “You want to get out of this bed fast, you heed the Doc’s advice.”

 “Thank you for pointing this out, Major,” Carson chimes in and did she just imagine it or did his voice sound a little clipped?

 “Right.” They look at each other and if she didn’t know better she’d say the temperature in the room just dropped a few degrees. What the hell is happening between thoe two, she wonders. Every time Carson had dropped in while Evan was visiting her or Evan had managed to squeeze in a ten-minute visit during the day and they’d crossed paths, they’d been… so _polite_ to each other. Polite and restrained and… curt. She senses she’s seriously missing something here but she just can’t seem to find the missing piece. “Anyway… I’ll better be going, huh? ‘Night, Laura.”

 For a moment it looks like he wants to… actually, she’s not sure what he was about to do… her first impulse would be to say “kiss her good-night” but she quickly squashes that line of thought. And anyway, all he really does is give her a short half-smile that looks a little regretful and then exit the room, not looking particularly happy.

 Carson, on the other hand, has come up to her bed, smiling. He wants to say something, but she really needs to know what’s going on between him and Evan now. “Carson… is everything okay between you and… Major Lorne?” Somehow calling him “Evan” in front of Carson doesn’t feel like a good idea to her.

 Carson frowns but then smiles reassuringly, telling her, “Of course, love. What makes you think there isn’t?” It’s stupid, she tells herself. She’s been imagining it, spending too much time in a damn hospital bed and all that. All she needs is a little change of scenery, something to get her mind off all this.

 “Nothing, just… never mind.” She can see that he’s anything but satisfied with her answer, but obviously chooses not to spoil their encounter with prying.

 “If you say so. Well then… what I wanted to say… I think we can release you tomorrow.” And he beams at her as her face lights up at his news. Finally, she thinks, _finally_. It’s been _way_ too long and she misses running and climbing and just plain lounging around on one of the balconies. Going on missions, as well. Prowling around the city, not to forget. And of course… “It doesn’t mean, though, that you’re allowed to go on duty again.”

 Well, she knew that, of course. There is no way she’d be allowed back on duty with her arm in a sling but she’s confident that this thing will come off as soon as possible. So she just kind of overhears Carson’s last statement and answers with apparent glee in her voice, “Not a problem. Main thing is I’ll get out of here. I can worry about everything else later.”

 He smiles and feigns a little hurt. “I never thought you’d be in such a hurry to get away from me, love.”

 “Not from you, silly, just the infirmary. If you’d spend a little more time outside of it, you could have a little more time with me as well, you know.” She gives him a scolding glance, but then smiles again as he ruefully grins. Oh yes, he knows exactly what she means.

 “True. Now… good night, Laura. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you get released.” With that he shortly squeezes her hand, giving her a warm and fuzzy feeling, like always.

 “’Night, Carson.” He nods and exists, darkening the room in the process, leaving her to lie back and fall asleep. Well… when she stopped thinking about all these strange encounters between Carson and Evan, that is. Grumbling, she wriggles a little under her blanket. Could very well be some time, before that happens, considering that probably neither of them will _ever_ tell her what this is about. Ah hell, she thinks, if those guys have a problem with each other, it’s exactly that: _their_ problem. And they can go on for all eternity for all she cares. All she will do now is sleep.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of the immortal Angry Birds: WUHOOOOEEEEEEH! First _Protect and Survive_ story successfully posted entirely. And that's where I'll stop spamming inboxes. I'll return tomorrow with the second part.

** Epilogue **

****

_“The power of love is a curious thing  
Make a one man weep, make another man sing.”_

_Huey Lewis & the News, “Power of Love”_

 It’s about midday, when Carson _finally_ comes to her to give her a last check-up and then release her. What irritates her, though, is that he’s unusually curt with her. Well, not exactly… _curt_ , but not quite as affectionate as he used to be those last two weeks. Just a little more professional, just a little less… special. And a little absentminded. Something’s bugging him and she’s determined to find out what it is.

 “Carson, is something bothering you?” she asks after putting on her uniform – which cost her a considerable amount of time because her right arm is still a little stiff – and he’s busy looking anywhere but her all of a sudden.

 He takes his time answering her. In the end he says, “Laura… if you feel that maybe… we would be better off as friends and if there’s any other man that would be better suited for you… don’t be afraid to tell me.” She eyes him skeptically. What is he trying to tell her?

 “Carson…” He looks away again, to avoid that she sees the hurt in his eyes but she still catches a glimpse of it. It confuses her even more.

 “Major Lorne said to immediately inform him of any changes. I’m sure he’ll be happy if you tell him the good news of your discharge yourself.” What the… why is he talking about Evan all of a sudden?

 “I have _no_ idea, what…” This time he looks her straight in the face. She can see both hurt and determination in his eyes and she starts to realize what the problem might be but before she can deny any romantic feelings for Evan Lorne – her CO, for Heaven’s sake – he speaks up again.

 “I’m sure he can be found on one of the balconies. You better make up your mind fast, love.” She knows he’s talking about far more than just the decision whether she should tell Evan she’s okay again or Carson. But she refuses to let herself be forced into a decision she didn’t even know she had to make until a few minutes ago.

 “Look, Carson…” He shakes his head and she recognizes the look in his eyes. It’s the same look he wears whenever one of his patients doesn’t listen to his orders and she realizes that there will be no more arguing about this. Defeated, she sighs and gets up to go looking for Evan. Hopefully, he’ll not make such a fuss.

 So she goes prowling the city for Evan. She knows she could radio him and ask him where he is or ask one of the technicians in the ‘Gate Control Room but first she wants to surprise him and second she doesn’t want to get the rumor mill in overdrive _again_. And apart from that… she needs this time of walking around, as much for stretching her legs as for doing a little thinking.

 She’s a little mad at Carson, she realizes. What gives him the right to cut her short like this, even having patronizing tendencies? And how did this stupid idea about her and Evan get stuck in his head? Okay, so Evan has spent quite some time at her side in the infirmary during the last two weeks. But honestly, so have other people, Carson included. In fact, Carson got much more time with her, just out of the simple reason that Evan had been on at least three overnight off-world missions in the past two weeks.

 However, this just _might_ be an explanation for the strange behavior between the two of them she witnessed. She’d attributed it to Carson being mad at Evan for getting her in trouble but to her it still doesn’t make sense. Carson knows she’s a Marine and getting in trouble is part of her job description. No, obviously Carson is _jealous_ , which makes her snort. Ridiculous. As if anything would ever happen between her and Evan.

 Apart from the fact that he’s just a friend and has never shown any signs of wanting to change it – she chooses to deliberately overlook all these little inconsistencies and awkward moments that have happened between the two of them ever since she came back to Atlantis – he’s her _superior_ and as lax as military protocol might be on Atlantis: dating your CO is still not exactly encouraged by the brass.

 And anyway, it’s not like she _wants_ to date him or anything, right? So, yes, he’s attractive, kind, dutiful, witty… but whoever said women could only be friends with ugly, dull guys, huh? No, Carson is wrong and it irks her that he would think she’d deceive him or hold such important things as “Hey, you know, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re just not the guy I want to hook up with. Instead I’ll just go for my superior, even if that might ruin my career,” back from him.

 So… as much as she doesn’t want to, obviously they need to have some rather explicit chat about trust and friendship before they can finally hit it off. She isn’t exactly looking forward to this but it’s probably better to clear those things _before_ they find themselves in the middle of a mess they don’t know how to get out because too much emotions are involved. Well, she thinks and smirks to herself, _thinking_ before _acting_ … that would be a first for you.

 Anyway… after a few unsuccessful tries she finally finds the balcony to which Evan retreated today. As she had guessed, he sits on the floor, with his back to the wall and has a sketch book in his hand and is working on some pencil sketch. She knows that he tends to get engrossed too much in his sketching and painting, so she carefully approaches him as not to startle him.

 “Hey, what are you hiding from?”, she asks and despite her careful approach, he jumps a little and nearly loses the sketching pad.

 “Geez, Laura, you just scared the living daylights out of me.” Evan Lorne, scared? It sounds as unlikely as Evan Lorne getting drunk but she remembers them already cleaning up this fact in a particular late-night conversation a few weeks back.

 “Sorry. Just wanted to tell you that I’m okay again. So… here I am.” He looks up at her and smiles. The dimples make her heart flutter a bit but she attributes it to the fact that they make _lots_ of hearts flutter.

 “It’s good to see you up again, Laura. People like you… they don’t belong into hospital beds.” She raises an eyebrow.

 “People like me, huh?” He rubs his neck.

 “Yeah, well, you know…” She wonders what significant, deep stuff will come now. “White doesn’t look too good on you.” A wide grin appears on his face, as she rolls her eyes and nudges him with her foot.

 “You can be such an idiot, Evan Lorne.” For a second or two his face darkens and makes her wonder what exactly she just did wrong – well, apart from being insolent to her superior, of course – but as soon as they came, the clouds are gone again.

 “What, I get called names for telling you the truth? Is that how you treat your friends now?” She crouches down beside him, because she’s nice enough that she doesn’t want him to have to crane his neck all the time.

 “Only those who mistake insult for truth.” To accentuate her point, she pokes him in the shoulder and he feigns hurt.

 “Ouch. Anyway… did the Doc tell you when you are fit for full duty again?” Now her face darkens a little, as much because he mentioned Carson – whom she still hasn’t quite forgiven for the little argument in the infirmary – as because of what Carson told her about going on duty again.

 “Yeah. At least another two weeks. I tried to beat him down to a week but he just wouldn’t let me.” She tries to ban everything petulant and snappy from her voice but as always it doesn’t work quite as well as she wants it to.

 Evan, though, just gives her an encouraging half-smile and squeezes her good shoulder. “Don’t fret. We’ll sort it out. I’m sure the Doc knew what he was doing when he wouldn’t let you go back to full duty in the next two weeks.” She pulls a face at him mentioning Carson, and obviously that triggers something in him. “Laura… is everything okay between the Doc and you?”

 She’d love to tell him about this strange argument they’d just had or Carson’s ridiculous assumptions about the both of them or her wonderings about this strange tensions between him and Carson but she feels like she’d better not touch all of this, at least not just yet. “No, everything’s okay. We just… couldn’t find a spot for another fishing trip is all. Anyway… what have you been working on here?”

 “Oh, nothing. Just some doodling, nothing really interesting.” But the way he suddenly covers his open sketchbook suggests otherwise and immediately piques her interest.

 “Aw, come on. Let me see it. It’s been a while since I saw any of your work.” In fact, the last time he showed her something – only after long days of prodding and cajoling, like always – was before she even came back to Atlantis.

 “No, honestly, it’s not… Laura!” Not waiting for his approval she has reached out for the sketchbook and snatched it from his hand. Really, sometimes he can be such a diva about his drawing. But as she starts looking at the latest sketches, he has grown very, very quiet, and after leafing back a page, she understands why.

 At least three or four pages contain portraits, half-profiles, rough sketches… of her. Most of them are just drawn with a few hurried strokes, but two or three are very elaborate, showing that he took his time finishing them. She sees herself in various positions, laughing, thoughtfully staring off into space, deep in concentration over some problem or other… Still not quite ready to understand, she looks up at him again. His slightly helpless shrug and apologetic look are all the confirmation she needs and it finally dawns on her that she might have a problem on her hands she has no idea how to solve. And that Carson had seen the signs so much earlier than she had, obviously.

 Suddenly, a powerful need to be away from all of this – Carson, Evan, dating, friendship, men in general – surges through her and she gets up abruptly but never letting go of the sketchbook. Without another word, she leaves the balcony, ignoring his faint call of “Laura, wait!” on the run from all this complicated emotional stuff. This really hadn’t been on her agenda when returning to Atlantis, and she is scared.

 Scared by what the drawings suggested, by what she’d seen in Evan’s eyes so often, by what she felt every time she saw him entering her room in the infirmary… She’s got a problem and now she can’t even talk about it with her best friend because the stupid idiot had to go and fall in love with her. Her world is suddenly falling to pieces and there’s no one left to pick them up now.

 Suddenly, she’s not even that irritated about being on light duty for the next two weeks any more. In fact, it gives her the perfect excuse to bury herself in her quarters as often as she can and avoid running into either Carson or Evan. Which is exactly what she will do after having found Colonel Sheppard and reported for duty. Let the guys sort it out among themselves. She is out of the game, for the time being.


End file.
